


Too Much Ale and Arbor Gold

by vivilove



Series: Naughty Alayne and Lord Commander Snow [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunken Shenanigans, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jonsa Smut Week, Roleplay, altered timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-01-31 04:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12674736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Naught Alayne enjoys the Arbor Gold that the representative from the Iron Bank has brought to Castle Black as she awaits the Lord Commander.  And Jon drinks too much ale as he impatiently sits through a meeting before he can join his beloved Sansa in his chambers for the night.





	Too Much Ale and Arbor Gold

**Author's Note:**

> For the Day 4 prompt- Drunken Antics of Jonsa Smut Week on Tumblr.
> 
> Brief reminders about this series-Sansa and Jon know they are cousins and they are their show ages not book. She fled the Vale and came straight to Jon so no marriage to Ramsey and she was a maiden when she arrived. Jon has not been murdered/resurrected in this. There's no mention of the WW threat and I've altered the timeline of events as it suits the story.

Sansa knows she shouldn’t overindulge. It’s not a prudent or ladylike thing to do. Queen Cersei would drink too much and grow rather loquacious and sometimes quite vile. Ladies really should watch how much they imbibe. Men too for that matter but that’s another tale.

But the Arbor Gold that arrived at Castle Black along with the representative from the Iron Bank today is so sweet and flavorful after all the disgusting ale she’s quaffed with her dinner out of courtesy these past few moons. It’s tempting to indulge in enjoying some good wine again and Jon has said she can have as much as she pleases. So, Sansa has a cup with her dinner…and then two more with supper…and then another cup whilst she awaits her handsome cousin in their chambers tonight.

It’s warm by the fire and Ghost is there snoring away like he often does on these chilling nights at the Wall. It grows dark earlier and earlier it seems. Winter is coming.

The Stark words are little comfort to Sansa this evening though. They tend to remind her of all the things she’s lost, the family her and Jon have lost. So, she chooses to ponder something less gloomy.

She sips the last of her serving and then pours another cup. She really should share some of this with Jon. She wonders if he’s ever drank such a fine vintage…or much wine at all.

 _He probably prefers ale or mead anyway_ , she decides as she continues sipping.

Time ticks by slowly and he is quite late. He’d said there was some sort of meeting though. She rolls her shoulders and her neck. She wipes a bit of wine that’s dribbled down her chin with her finger. Her head is feeling noticeably fuzzy and she’s warm…all over.

She looks over at his bed in the corner and recalls lying in his arms there last night. She remembers his dark grey eyes on her as he moved within her. She recalls his sinful lips on her as she cried out in pleasure. Sansa grows flushed and aches for him to join her.

She loves him. He’s so tender with her and gentle. He’s careful. Sometimes though…he’s almost too careful.

Nearly a fortnight has passed since he took her maidenhead and Sansa wonders what it might be like if he felt free to take her a bit more roughly. But Jon wouldn’t do that with Sansa. The Lord Commander however…he might. He might with Alayne. Naughty Alayne, that bastard girl, she’d not mind a bit of the rough with a man she loves.

The Lord Commander of the Nights Watch has many cares. And he is often vexed by his position and sometimes quite tense. She’s felt how tense his shoulders grow. King Stannis has arrived at the Wall and he makes many demands of her lord...things he cannot readily give.  And, she’s seen how his jaw clenches when one of his officers is complaining over problems he cannot readily solve. She knows some nights he rises from bed once he thinks she’s asleep and pours over the stack of paperwork on his desk. He often sits there until his head falls onto his arms that are folded on the desk and he begins to snore. Perhaps a night of wild abandon would do him some good.

Alayne pours herself a cup of Arbor Gold and wonders how much longer Lord Commander Snow will be.

 

* * *

 

 

  
Jon groans inwardly and wonders how late it has grown as the officers of the Watch hold their meeting. He also wonders when Bowen Marsh might finally stop speaking of candles and cabbages this night.

Sansa will be waiting for him and he is eager to join her. He longs to sink into the sweet oblivion of his beloved’s warm, soft body. All his troubles disappear for a time when he buries his cock in her slick heat, making her moan and cry his name.

He downs another tankard of ale and Satin is quick to refill it for him. His shoulders and back are aching from training recruits in the yard today. His head aches from the Watch’s many troubles. Not enough men, not enough stores and winter is coming.

He finishes the tankard and sets it firmly on the table. His hands feel a touch unsteady. He’s lost track of how much he’s drank. He determines he will drink no more tonight but doesn’t stop Satin from refilling his tankard once more.

His day has been one long frustration after another between Stannis's demands and Marsh, Yarwyck and Thorne’s complaints. The representative from the Iron Bank was polite enough but Jon’s dealings with him left him feeling exhausted in another way. It's like trying to master a dance in the middle of a song. It drains him, always trying to stay one step ahead in their bargaining.

At least, he’d managed to get some good wine out of their discussions to please Sansa. He knows she does not care for the ale and Arbor Gold is reputed to be the finest and the sweetest of wines. Jon wishes to please her and based upon her reaction when he opened a bottle for her at dinner, he suspects he did.

She’d been a bit tipsy by the time he’d walked her to the chambers they share and he’d longed to see her relaxed and sprawled across the bed. He'd longed for more than that. But the meeting could not be postponed and Jon knew he must see to his duty before he could sneak off to his secret bliss.

 _Your secret treasure…and your secret shame_.

He ignores the niggling of his conscience. Instead, his hand reaches out and downs the tankard before him.

At long last, Marsh stops speaking and Jon sees his opportunity.

“Brothers, I think we’ll end here for tonight,” he says firmly just before Yarwyck can rise to his feet. “We’ll take this discussion up tomorrow if needed though.”

The First Builder nods and Jon tells Satin he is retiring for the night and doesn’t wish to be disturbed unless it’s an emergency.

The wind whips across his face as he leaves the hall and heads unsteadily to his chambers. He’s grateful not to be on watch tonight, especially atop the Wall.

 _I’m so pissed on ale, I’d likely tumble off,_ he thinks. He stops and takes a piss then and clumsily laces himself back up. He sucks in a few deep breaths of the cold night air in an attempt to clear his head.

 _I can’t go in there like this. I wouldn’t wish to lose control with her_.

But he recalls Sansa in his arms last night as she moaned softly and cried out from her peak beneath him. And so he continues on his way despite his inebriated state.

He wouldn’t hurt her…never on purpose. She is so dear to him. He must never forget that she’s a lady and he must be careful with her. He must remember not to spill inside of her and he cannot get too rough. She’s a gentle girl and she deserves to be treated gently.

Jon passes the guards on his way to his quarters only staggering a bit. He raps once on the door for courtesy’s sake and enters. He hangs up his cloak and looks about the room where his desk sits and his bed. Ghost is by the fire but Sansa is nowhere to be seen.

In the connecting room, she has her own bed though it’s gotten little use of late. Perhaps she is already asleep tonight. Jon curses Bowen Marsh under his breath and wonders if he’d be welcome in her bed. He just as quickly tells himself that he must not force himself on her, especially after too much ale.

But then, much to Jon’s delight, he hears her humming in the next room. She’s awake after all. Sweet Sansa humming a tune. He smiles to remember the girl he left at Winterfell, singing by the fire and brushing out Lady’s coat.

 _She always had the loveliest voice_ , he recalls.

It is then that he notices though that the humming sounds a touch off key. He supposes every songbird has their moments though.

The humming comes to an abrupt stop when his songbird hiccups…and then belches loudly. Jon smirks to himself for as much as she is a lady, she’s only human after all. The belch is followed by giggles. He snickers softly under his breath in response and knows she would blush if she knew he’d heard her.

He’s about to go and seek Sansa in her rooms when she appears in the doorway.

But she is not Sansa just now. She is Alayne. Or at least that is who Sansa is pretending to be at present. He may be drunk…well, somewhat drunk…but he can tell the difference at once.

Alayne is wearing nothing but one of his tunics and her stockings. Jon’s cock immediately twitches with interest. She holds a cup of wine in her hands and smiles at him lasciviously.

“Oh, Lord Commander,” she coos, “is that you at last? I’ve been waiting and waiting for ages…”

She leans into the doorway and fingers the hem of his tunic. He cannot believe how long her legs are…even after having them wrapped about his waist a time or ten. There’s something about her state of dress though…it’s like his faded grey tunic alone covering her is even more enticing in some ways than any fancy dress she might have owned. And the stockings cover her legs only to the middle of her thighs and then end about an inch shy of where his tunic begins. He sees that inch of creamy thigh and dreams of licking it.

Her long red hair is messy for a change. She usually keeps it quite neat even when she wears it down. He loves her hair but there is something about it this way. It’s already mussed the way it would be after he's lain with her…and they’ve not even done that yet. She gives him a sinful pout for keeping her waiting but it is disrupted by another hiccup and Jon can’t help but grin at her.

“What are you about tonight, Alayne?” he asks once he wipes the grin from his face. His tone is gruff. She prefers it thus when they play. He does not mind playing this game…not so long as he holds Sansa’s heart. He paces over to where she stands and sniffs her cup. “Have you been drinking my wine, Alayne?” he asks.

“I have, my lord. I didn’t think you would mind,” she says.

“I don’t mind you having a bit…but I believe you’re quite drunk now.”

“A bit,” she hiccups and then belches again. Her cheeks turn pink and she says, “I beg your pardon.”

He kisses her mouth then for how can he resist his sweet one even as she tries to play the wanton? Her mouth is always sweet but it is a different sweetness he tastes on her tongue tonight, a fruity, slightly tart taste. He licks his lips to savor it when he pulls back.

“You taste of ale, my lord,” she says slyly.

“Aye, I drank my fill. I am a man of the Nights Watch and lord here. I can drink as I please, can I not?”

“Of course, my lord.”

“Did you save some for me at least?” he asks next, eyeing her cup. He suspects not. He’s amused at the way she shakes her head sadly. “Not even a drop?”

“No, my lord. I drank the entire bottle it seems,” she says like a girl that is about to be punished.

His palms itch at the thoughts of giving her round, firm arse a smack but that may wait for another time.

She draws closer and whispers in his ear, “I had a thirst…a woman’s thirst tonight.”

“A woman’s thirst?” he chuckles though her whispered words have stirred his blood. “Well, perhaps your lord commander has a thirst as well tonight.”

Her eyes darken and her lips pull back into a smirk. “Truly, my lord?”

“I thirst to take you to my bed, Alayne.”

“Oh…that,” she says dismissively. “I was thinking perhaps you might _take me_ somewhere else.”

Jon gulps and doesn’t quite understand in his foggy state until her eyes flicker to his desk.

 _Oh, yes. That would be quite delightful…though I may never be able to concentrate there again_.

He glances at the sturdy chair though where Sansa spends so much time writing his letters. He draws closer and strokes her soft cheek. He loves the way she leans into his touch. He kisses her brow and notes the way her chest heaves in anticipation. Of course, his chest is heaving as well.

“Have you ever ridden a horse, Alayne?” he rasps.

He knows she has but this is all part of the game now.

His hands glide from her cheek down to her hips. She trembles under his touch. She will already be growing wet. He is already hard.

“I have a time or two, my lord.”

“And have you ever ridden a man like a horse?”

“You know I haven’t, my lord. I’ve only been with you,” she says demurely though her eyes sparkle with interest.

“Something new to try then…if you wish, Alayne,” he says as he kisses his way down her throat.

The tunic is not completely tied. He can see a hint of her bosom where the neck has been left open. His hands tighten on her hips and he pulls her closer. He rubs his hard cock against her belly through his breeches. She gasps and clutches his shoulders.

“I’d like that, my lord,” she replies breathily as he tugs her towards the chair.

 

* * *

 

 

  
“ _Mmmm_ … _ohhhh_ , my lord!” Alayne cries as she sits astride his lap in the chair and experiences this delightful new position.

Her peak is already upon her as the friction is just right against her little bud. Alayne was aware there were other ways to enjoy a man other than him being on top but had not experienced it until now. This is perfect though.

The Lord Commander is busily lapping at her teats where he has shoved the front of his tunic down to expose them as she rides him. Her small clothes were discarded but he told her to keep the stockings on. He has shed his jerkin and tunic but left his breeches on and only unlaced himself enough to free his cock like a man that was about to take a piss. It excites Alayne that they are still somewhat clothed. It seems dirtier in some ways than if they were as naked as their name day.

His hands grip her hips and thighs with bruising force. Only the tip of her toes can touch the floor so he helps guide her up and down his shaft as she clutches at his muscular shoulders for leverage.

“Come, Alayne,” he growls as his mouth pulls off her nipple. “Come for me. Tell me you like this.”

“I like it,” she moans and then cries out as that wonderful peak strikes. “ _Unnn-ahhh!”_

She feels limp and melts into his arms when it passes. He kisses her deeply and tells her there’s nothing sweeter than Arbor Gold on his Naughty Alayne’s tongue. She sighs and strokes his beard.

But, his cock is still hard and he’s not done with her. His hips begin to thrust again, slowly and tentatively. He looks up from where their bodies are joined and asks with his eyes if this is alright.

“Harder, my lord,” she says, encouraging him to let go of his worries just as the wine has helped her let go of her own.

He grins and thrusts upwards from the seat. His hands hold her steady as he pounds away. His brow is damp with sweat and so is hers. His fingers will leave marks this way and she is glad of it. She’s his. She’ll look upon every bruise as proof of it.

Every time she sinks down his shaft now, she feels his balls against her arse. He’s staring at her teats that bounce before him. He licks his lips and bites down on them. He’s still holding back.

“Let go, my lord. I’m yours,” she says as she throws her head back.

He growls in response and begins to chant, “Mine, mine, mine,” under his breath as he slides her up and down his cock.

His mouth finds her teats and now he is sucking.

"Go on," she prompts.  His eyes flicker to her own before he bites her instead of his lips. Not hard at all...but he is nibbling intently and tweaking her nipples with his tongue and grazing her with his teeth.  She grins and says, "Yours, yours, yours."

He whimpers at one point as Alayne rakes her nails across his shoulders. She’ll leave marks of her own. He’s hers.

His peak is building rapidly now but so is hers.

“Alayne!” he shouts. “Gods, I love fucking you, my girl!”

“Yes, my lord!” she replies heatedly. “Fuck me! Don’t stop fucking me!”

Her face turns crimson at once. Never has she spoken that word aloud. Sansa Stark might faint dead away to say such a thing. But Alayne is naughty girl and she’s had too much Arbor Gold tonight so she says it.

The Lord Commander pauses for a moment and stares at her with his mouth agape. He’d not expected that, she knows.

“Was that bad, my lord?” she asks, afraid now that perhaps he is truly displeased by her vulgarity. Jon loves his sweet Sansa, his precious and dear lady.

“I liked it, my naughty girl,” he says with a wicked grin. “Tell me you like my cock,” he whispers next.

“I like your cock,” she says with a devilish grin of her own.

“Louder," he says huskily.

_A new game then…_

Alayne is grateful for the Arbor Gold that frees her tongue and her inhibitions when she says, “I love your cock, my lord! I love it when you’re deep inside my cunny! It feels so good and you make me so wet!”

“ _Unnn_ …oh, gods…don’t stop,” he mutters as his hips return to their furious pace of earlier.

Alayne’s eyes roll back as she feels him deep inside of her again and he buries his face in her chest. Her hands grab his curls and guides his mouth to one of her nipples.

“Suck my teats, my lord,” she begs. “I want to feel you suck my teats while you fuck me… _annnn_ …that’s it! Jon, I’m going to peak again!”

“Gods, Sansa!” he roars. “Hurry and come…I’m… _unnn_ …fuck, I’m so close!”

She cries out then riding his shaft as the waves of pleasure break over her yet again. She clenches around him and grips his hair mercilessly, slamming down onto him thrice more as the pulsing, throbbing sweet relief continues.

She floats and falls as he grunts and stills. She smiles down at him feeling perfectly sated…until he looks up at her in horror.

“Sansa…I already…oh, fuck!” He raises a hand to his forehead and wipes the sweat away before he continues. “I, uh…spilled…inside of you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tomorrow's story for Smut Week will be a modern au but there'll be one more addition to this series the following day.
> 
> Thanks very much for reading!


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